


FSN Deleted Scene

by bone_in_sword_stock



Category: Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: "Kino" used without comment, Genitals described so esoterically that one only knows it's Meat, M/M, Metaphors as Blunt Cognitohazards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:48:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22539628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bone_in_sword_stock/pseuds/bone_in_sword_stock
Summary: Archer/Lancer but it's a deleted Nasu H-scene and completely excruciating as a result
Relationships: Cú Chulainn | Lancer/Heroic Spirit EMIYA | Archer
Comments: 5
Kudos: 25





	FSN Deleted Scene

“Lancer.”

I enter unknown territory through a canvas flap. Lancer is eating popcorn in his tent alone. His legs are covered with scales and netting, and he’s brandishing a knife.

It looks like dinner, or maybe lunch, depending on what he intends to do with the fish on his chopping block. My arriving early must have interrupted his preparations. Besides the disgusting addition of popcorn to seafood, his cutting form is too informal and an urge to correct him rises up within me.

“Yo, Archer.” Lancer waves his knife point first and the urge becomes too strong to bear. “Perfect timing. I was gonna pleasure myself with this fish if ya hadn’t shown.”

He isn’t serious. If he were, I would strike him down with a sea of blades and toss his body in the bay.

“You could, but whatever happened to that heroic dignity of yours?” 

A loud snort escapes his lips in reply. He isn’t serious. Not with a libido as insatiable as his. The knife goes into the chip bag and he tosses them to the side. That millimeter of cellophane, protecting the blade from needless wear, is just enough to keep me from warring with him on the spot.

He invades my mouth like a mad commander and my urge to throw his entire tent away transforms into an urge to fuck. Our tongues meld together, our lust in melting fusion, and my thick and veiny shaft rises up like a dangerous ideology as our hands make exploratory gestures.

My weapon sharpens. The lewdness in my spine is unthinkable and I straddle Lancer on all fours to spread the sensation. Lancer lies down lasciviously, and his armor, the sheer fabric that teases the lines of his form to all, slips away for me alone.

He presents his back and ass to me like a celebrity massage client. I spread his legs and press my lips against the skin. There are scales on it still and it’s  _ slimy, _ unclean unclean unclean unclean– 

I break the loop with a single incantation. A metal sponge to scrub them off. Lancer yelps in discomfort and I pause, as if deliberating a purchase at the Miyama market.

“Lad, you okay there?” Lancer asks, skeptically turning his head. He makes an obscene tonguing motion into a balled fist. His tongue wriggles beneath his digits like a crest worm. “Still turned on? Ya just… ya look more like you’re tryin’ to buy a discount fish, y’know?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s better, I’m just…”

The response in my mind is turgid. Bloated, worthless thoughts, unsuitable for describing a hero’s form. I respond with fingers that enter his most intimate place.

His arousal is a storm. His crotch is drenched in fluids like the banks of a great river. I dive into his flesh and thrust my meat into his glistening crevice like a rhinoceros.

Raw.

Kino, even. Picturesque. Imagine an erotic film. His movements are as experienced as a JAV star’s, but there’s no falsehood in his expression. The film’s silence deafens me and I fuck him roughly so he’ll scream. Lancer is nude marble in the halls of an art museum

And I’m defacing his pure warrior eros with my broken “self.”

“OH–”

I bury my weapon in his tight sheath as he meets me with his walls. Our meats seem to move on their own. The scene drapes itself in sepia tones. Lancer stabs the cutting board as an anchor as he pushes back on my cock with bated breath. Sharp point. Honed blade. Breach of entry. I penetrate his entrance deeply as he presses his face to the flat fabric ground.

His hole contracts around my erection as the sound of our coupling turns into moist, sloppy slapping. I take the (disgusting) netting and line it against his skin, leaving a fishnet stocking’s brand. Lancer moans, not in pleasure but annoyance. 

“Quit dickin’ around, dumbass.”

_ Okay. _ I pull out, letting him shift his hips and slam his tightness into my length with earth-shattering force.

His wetness is a sea of pleasure. My hands wrap around the muscles of his waist as I season his dish with my cumin. Even in our lewd oscillations, his face remains harsh and feral, and we nip and kiss at each other like a pair of dogs meeting for the fifteenth time.

His cocklust is immeasurable. His pleasure is a siren song in baritone. My hardness reaches its limit. I aim my leaking penis and attack “that point” like it’s a target for a long and torturous death, bashing it with the head.

“Mm, Archer, I’m gonna, hah, I’m gonna  _ cum– _ ”

Lancer’s orgasm surrounds my cock like a collapsing temple’s curse, collecting its debt through my semen. He presses his sweat-covered cheek against my chest, using my skin as a towel.

“…Has anyone ever told ya how huge your honkers are, man?”

I sigh as a counter in my head returns to its default state.

“You wouldn’t be the first.”

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to mimic Nasu's H-scene style as a joke and it got out of hand.   
> Incidentally, Blade Itself is making progress, but I like to juggle projects around until they're fresh in my mind again.  
> The middle parts of a story... painful... just like this passage here.


End file.
